


Before the Tower

by hawkewards



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26456437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkewards/pseuds/hawkewards
Summary: In which Saint makes soup, and Osiris just wants some quiet.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Before the Tower

**Author's Note:**

> me, heely-ing in 5 years after my last fic with an entirely new fandom: whats up yall ive been writing this whole time enjoy this teeny saint/osiris ficlet to prove im still alive

“Here.”

Osiris leaned back in irritation as a bowl was pushed into his face, over the top of the datapad he was trying to read. Spicy, rich aroma wafted up from the steaming stew and his stomach gave an unbidden grumble. He followed the hand holding the bowl to stare up at the titan offering him dinner.

“Every time I see you,” said Saint-14, “you have something in your hand that is not food. Is not good for you to not eat.”

“I’ve eaten today,” Osiris said defensively.

“Actually.” Sagira popped into sight next to his head. “You haven’t.”

“Yes, I have,” Osiris argued, looking at her. “Those walnuts that other warlock was handing out.”

“That was yesterday,” Sagira said, and she zipped down to the bowl and spun her points about her core. “Besides, this looks _amazing_. Did you make it?”

That question was directed at Saint, who boomed with laughter and nearly sloshed soup over the bowl’s edge. Osiris pulled back his datapad to safety.

“I did indeed, little light!” he said. “An old recipe I learned from an even older _babushka_ while we were on the road. It makes the best of what little resources you have while traveling. Or, I guess I should say, while wandering.”

“Or fleeing,” Osiris grumbled, but Saint didn’t hear him.

“Yum.” Sagira turned back to Osiris, and she pitched her voice low. “Take the man’s homemade soup, Osiris.”

The warlock sighed and set his datapad aside entirely, and he took the bowl and balanced it on one knee.

“I’m sure you have other hungry patrons to attend,” he said, casting a lingering look back at the datapad. “Don’t feel obliged to stay.”

“On the contrary.” Saint flopped down on the deck with a mighty thud, and Osiris had to clutch his bowl to keep it from tipping. “You were my last stop.”

“Ah.”

They watched refugees and other guardians mill around the makeshift camp, moving to and fro between the bonfire and the lean-tos and tents, some going into the rundown buildings like the one Osiris had set up on. Others still patrolled the camp’s perimeter, keeping an eye out for any encroaching fallen or other dangerous wildlife. Saint-14 leaned back on his hands and watched Andal Brask relay some unheard tale to Shaxx where they stood by the bonfire. He glanced at Osiris, who had gone back to reading the datapad.

“If I made the soup too spicy,” Saint said casually, “let me know. I will be sure not to add so much to your next bowl.”

Osiris looked at him, but Saint had gone back to watching their assembled troupe. He frowned a little, looked back to the datapad for only a moment before he let out a quiet, disgruntled sigh and flipped it over.

He scooted back against a discarded metal barrel, one of many littering the once-intact buildings, and began to eat. He missed Saint’s bright grin as he watched Andal nearly fall over backward laughing about something.

“Well?” Saint asked after Osiris had taken a few bites. “Is good, yes?”

“If I say no will you leave me in peace?”

“Hah!” Saint laid back entirely and stuck his hands behind his head and stared up through a hole in the porch’s roof. “Not likely.”

“Then I suppose it’s delicious.” Osiris paused a moment as he chewed on some unidentified piece of meat. He didn’t really want to know what it was. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, my friend,” Saint said, and he watched the stars. “Now the next thing we get you is a blanket for cold nights like this. Soup may warm the soul, but you need to warm your bones as well.”

“I don’t get cold.”

“Bah.” Saint waved one hand dismissively. “Not the point. Everyone should have a good blanket. I will find you one, eh…somewhere. I’m sure there are blankets left to be had.”

Osiris quietly snorted, and he finished the rest of his soup in peace, the silence only punctuated by Andal’s loud whoops as he regaled yet another adventure.


End file.
